


Breakable

by syriala



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: Peter had always thought that Stiles was fragile, simply because he was human. Fragile, but strong, with an underlying layer of steel, ready to defend those he called his, and able to hold himself in a fight.But ever since their run in with the Djinn Stiles seemed brittle, almost breakable, like he would shatter into a thousand pieces if someone touched him, and it wasn’t just because of his drained spark.





	Breakable

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Inktober for Writers, day 24, and the word was 'breakable'.
> 
> This is a direct continuation of Inktober for Writers, [day 23, 'whishes'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13622229)

Peter had always thought that Stiles was fragile, simply because he was human. Fragile, but strong, with an underlying layer of steel, ready to defend those he called his, and able to hold himself in a fight.

But ever since their run in with the Djinn Stiles seemed brittle, almost breakable, like he would shatter into a thousand pieces if someone touched him, and it wasn’t just because of his drained spark.

This went deeper than just losing his magical abilities and Peter didn’t like it.

Peter had kept a close eye on Mrs. Stilinski, Allison and Laura and they had seemed fine. They didn’t even smell dead and no one reported any alarming behavior. But while they seemed to strive and livelier than ever, Stiles seemed to slowly dwindle away.

 He was still beaming every time his eyes fell on his mother, radiating so much happiness Peter didn’t even need his werewolf senses to detect it, but whenever he was alone, or certain that no one was looking, he looked run down, worried and sleep deprived.

But Peter was always watching and it was exactly as he had feared.

Stiles could have probably sustained his mother for close to years before his spark ran out, but with the three living off his magic, it was running out quicker than even Peter had feared.

It had been three months, three months of the Stilinski and Argent household being whole again, of Scott being a love-sick puppy, of Derek being softer, gentler, not as angry as before, before it all came crashing down.

One minute everything had been okay and in the next Stiles had keeled over, clutching his chest and as he lost his consciousness, three lives were snuffed out of existence again.

When Stiles woke up, he hadn’t been the same.

He didn’t laugh, he barely spoke and whenever someone so much as looked at him, he flinched. He shut everyone out, or lashed out at everyone in turns and it didn’t really help that at least Scott seemed to blame Stiles for the second loss of the love of his life, as he claimed.

When Peter finally had enough, and slipped into the boy’s room, Stiles didn’t even uncurl from his position on the bed.

“I don’t need your ‘I told you so’s,” was all he mumbled before Peter could smell the salty scent of tears.

“I’m not here for that,” Peter gave back and regarded Stiles again.

He seemed made out of glass, skin almost translucent and still so very breakable. It didn’t suit him at all, Peter thought before he sat down on the bed.

“The Djinn didn’t show up for me,” Peter casually said and Stiles stiffened under his blankets.

“And what would you have asked of him?”

“To undo all of this. Maybe make everyone forget about it,” Peter mused. “Maybe just restore your spark. I didn’t think that far.”

There was a tense silence before Stiles finally spoke again. “You didn’t think that far. You. You planned your own resurrection weeks ahead. You really want to tell me you didn’t think that far?” he demanded to know and Peter wanted to smile at the display of emotion but as soon as this surge had come to Stiles as soon it left again, so that he was nothing more than a lump on the bed.

“You knew this would happen,” Stiles mumbled when Peter didn’t answer his previous question. “You told me to ask for more magic.”

“I did,” Peter simply said.

“Why didn’t you make me wish for that?”

“I’m not in the habit of making you do anything,” Peter explained and suddenly Stiles was on him, untampered fury and rage, fists hitting him everywhere.

Peter let him rage, let him get it out of his system, taking everything Stiles threw at him. Anything to replace the lifeless, broken young man, for however short it was.

And it was short because Stiles hadn’t been sustaining himself correctly, hadn’t been taking care of himself like he should and after a few minutes he slumped over, face buried in Peter’s neck, shaking apart in his arms.

“I’m sorry you lost them again,” Peter whispered and Stiles cried even harder.

Peter had watched and listened, these past few days, and he knew that no one had allowed Stiles to grieve yet; they all came with accusations and their own hurt and anger, but none of them had allowed Stiles to do the same.

They had just fueled his guilt without taking into account what it might do to the boy.

Peter knew that Stiles was at fault here, had been too cocky to heed Peter’s warning, ripping open wounds again with his rash actions, and no one let it forget him. But they forgot that Stiles wore the same wounds, that he lost again too and while Stiles had been too guilty to properly process his feelings, everyone else had done so by placing theirs on the boy.

Now it was Stiles time to process.

Stiles was still crying in his arms, was still shaking apart when the Sheriff came home half an hour later.

When he barged into the room and took in the scene, Peter readily handed Stiles over when the Sheriff came towards them.

“Oh, son,” was the only thing the Sheriff said when Stiles continued to cry and Peter got up to leave them to it.

This was something they needed to sort out for themselves.

Peter was content in the knowledge that even though Stiles seemed brittle now, he would overcome that, and he would emerge harder than before. Peter was definitely looking forward to that.

 


End file.
